


Take It Slow

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-07
Updated: 2011-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-16 04:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two scenes from Itchy and Doze's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take It Slow

Doze really should feel better about this whole thing. It’s a minor miracle that he escaped the ambush with only a few cuts and bruises, especially when so many of the others were seriously hurt. But it’s impossible to feel good about anything when the last he saw Itchy, his green suit was soaked with red, and he was in too much pain to crack his usual jokes.

This is what his thoughts are stuck on as Crowbar gets him bandaged up. He’s not bleeding hard enough to make it worth Stitch’s while to treat, so he’s stuck with Crowbar and Die, the only others who got out unscathed. Snowman broke an arm, but there’s nothing to be done for her, not when it’s still inside her skin. Die’s got some sort of head-injury, and Crowbar’s one of the few who came out without a mark on him. Doze feels a little angry that Crowbar came out fine, and he’s the one who went toe to toe with Slick, but then feels bad about thinking that. He really shouldn’t be wishing pain on anybody, not when there was already more than enough to go around.

Crowbar finally finishes getting the last of the bandages on, clipping the band around his arm in place, “Alright, there you go. Get some sleep.”

Doze’s face falls at the suggestion, “But…I promised Itchy I’d go see him.”

“Itchy’s in no shape to be bugged right now. Go get some sleep and let Itchy do the same,” Crowbar’s a good leader, he really is, but it doesn’t make it any easier to listen to him when he knows Itchy needs him. Or at least, Doze needs Itchy to need him. Crowbar seems to see this train of thought going through Doze’s mind and he derails it, “I’m serious Doze. Just go speed time up and it’ll be morning before you know it.”

“Okay…” Doze reluctantly agrees, fighting hard not to let his disappointment show. He leaves Crowbar’s room and lets the door shut behind him. But instead of going to his room, he lingers in the hallway, debating about what to do. He should probably listen to Crowbar and go to his room. Except that isn’t what his heart is telling him to do. Stitch might get mad and yell at him, but Doze is willing to brave some yelling if it means he’ll get to see Itchy, even if only for a little while.

He heads down the stairs to the boutique. The lights are still on, and as he inches inside, he can hear Stitch talking to Quarters, “-hold it still.”

“I’m holding,” Quarters answers, sounding impatient and stressed. The room stinks heavily of blood, and the effigies are all hanging from their ropes, some looking in worse shape than others. There's Snowman's, her arm bent strangely, and fresh stitches all along Matchsticks' face and chest, and there's Clover's, still intact no matter how badly things go. His eyes seek out Itchy’s, and Doze breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that Itchy is intact. There’s a long ugly line of stitches going up his chest, but Doze can’t really make himself care, not as long as Itchy is okay.

He sneaks by the makeshift operating table, sheets hung around it to provide some sort of privacy. Quarters and Stitch’s shadows hang over the sheet walls while they work on whoever’s on the table. Doze takes another quick scan of effigies and finds that Fin’s is missing, which means he’s probably the fellow on the operating table.

Itchy’s lying on a cot on the far side of the room, looking all sorts of pale. Matchsticks is nearby but he’s completely out of it, his face marred by what will undoubtedly be a fresh scar come morning. Doze leaves him be and heads over to Itchy’s side instead, grabbing a spare chair and pulling it over to sit beside him.

It’s hard not to get choked up just looking at Itchy. He’s in one piece, but Doze can see the start of the fresh scar on his chest, sticking up over the sheet. Slick had gutted him, slicing Itchy from top to bottom, and it was only dumb luck that had kept this from being a life-ending injury instead of a serious one. If something had gotten nicked just the wrong way, if the knife had been a little deeper, if Slick had been more determined-

The thoughts sour Doze’s stomach. He doesn’t want to think about them. It hurts enough seeing Itchy like this. He’s always so busy and bright and vivid, even when he’s asleep. Except now he looks like a pale imitation of himself, a discount version of Itchy. Doze reaches out to touch his shoulder, only for a second, he can't make himself do it. He's afraid that his fingers will brush up against Itchy and he'll crumble away to dust, leaving behind nothing but crumpled blankets. Doze fights to steady his shaking hands and presses them against Itchy's shoulder, nearly sobbing in relief when nothing terrible happens.

He tries to remember the last thing he said to Itchy, and he’s horrified to realize that he’s not sure he can. His relationship with Itchy is… uncertain. They sleep together, but they never really talk about it. Doze doesn’t know exactly how Itchy feels about him, if what they do is casual and meaningless or if it’s something more. It’s been something more for Doze for a while now, but he’s reluctant to push it and demand to know what Itchy thinks and feels. He’d rather it be one-sided than risk losing Itchy entirely.

At least Doze can remember what Itchy had said to him last, though the words aren’t comforting. Just before Stitch hauled him into surgery, and just before Crowbar yanked him away when Doze had tried to follow, Itchy had managed to say something. He hadn’t cracked a joke like he usually did, and he hadn’t been an asshole; he had been scared and in pain, and he’d grabbed onto Doze’s jacket, tightening his grip and spitting out syllables like they were bullets, “Don’t leave me-”

The blood is still on his sleeve, even if it isn’t on Itchy anymore, and Doze looks at the fingerprints still clinging to the fabric. He had left Itchy, maybe not by choice, but he still hadn’t been there. There were so many things he hadn’t done, so many things he hadn’t said, and yet it’s the leaving that bothers him most, even more than the fact that he’s never admitted how badly he needs Itchy.

Doze should have been here, where Itchy really needed him. His fingers slide off of Itchy’s shoulder and reach out to touch the top of the scar on Itchy’s chest. As he traces it, he remembers all too vividly how Itchy had tried to hold everything in with one hand. He could have died-

“Figures huh?” Doze startles when Itchy speaks, his voice raspy tired. He’s not sure when Itchy woke up, but he’s awake now, and Itchy even manages a smile, though he’s still too pale for Doze’s comfort, “I finally get a chick-magnet scar after I start sleeping with your sorry ass. There’s no justice in this world.”

He tries to find something to say back, something funny maybe, or snappish, or anything at all. But of all the things that he tries to say, the only thing that comes out of Doze’s mouth is a helpless sob, and just like that, the waterworks start. Doze doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t, but it’s like a dam’s burst deep inside of him and the tears just roll down his cheeks. He reaches out and wraps his arms around Itchy's neck, squeezing a bit tighter than he really should. Itchy’s telling jokes again, which means he’s okay, which means that Doze can finally stop trying to be brave and can just be scared instead.

“Ow ow ow, ease up a little, I'm delicate! Aw hey, come on, don’t do that. I was just being an asshole. You’re going to get me all wet,” Itchy sets a hand on Doze’s head, “I’m the one who should be traumatized. I know what my own guts feel like. That’s some serious shit.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Doze manages to say, pressing his face against Itchy, “I. I left you a-and. And I s-shouldn’t even be upset, I wasn’t hurt-”

“Calm down, take a breath or something,” Itchy strokes Doze’s head, speaking about as soothingly as Itchy can manage, which isn’t really soothing at all but he’s at least trying, “Save the waterworks for when I’m actually dead, alright? If you use them all up now then nobody’s going to cry at my funeral and you’re going to prove my mother right.”

It takes a while, but Doze does finally manage to get himself back under control, rubbing at his eyes until they’re red and sore. He keeps his hands on Itchy though, half-afraid that he’ll take his hands off of him and he’ll disappear, “I was so scared… you were so close to death, a little deeper and you could have died.”

Itchy gives him a tired half-grin, “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. Don’t think about what could have been, that shit’s pointless.”

Doze sniffs and nods. Itchy’s right, even if Doze is having a hard time wrapping his mind around it. He’s alive. That’s enough. It has to be enough.

He wants to badly to say something to Itchy, to try tell him exactly how much Itchy means, that’s it’s more than physical. Doze can’t imagine a future without Itchy. He doesn’t want to wake up in the morning if Itchy isn’t beside him. The very thought of living any part of his life without Itchy is physically painful. But his words fail him, as they’ve always failed him his entire life, and all he can do is squeeze the hands on Itchy, wishing desperately that somehow Itchy could understand exactly how Doze feels.

“And what the hell are you doing in here?” Stitch growls out. Doze stiffens up, glancing back at Stitch, “I said nobody was allowed in.”

"I'm s-sorry-" Doze starts to say, but he's cut off before he can start groveling.

“Hey, back off,” Itchy tells Stitch, doing his best to raise his voice, “He’s here because I want him here. Even hospitals let people visit.”

“This ain’t a hospital. And they only let family or loved ones in, not friends,” Stitch jerks his thumb towards the exit, “You can catch up tomorrow.”

He’s about to stand up when Itchy grabs his hand and yanks him back down, “I want my fucking boyfriend to stay here with me, or I’m getting up and going with him.”

Doze has one awful overwhelming moment of panic, following by a swell of emotion. Boyfriend? He looks at Itchy to see if he’s trying to pull a fast one on Stitch, but Itchy looks as conflicted at Doze, as if what he said didn't sink in until the words were actually out of his mouth. But he doesn't take them back, and Doze fights off a thousand demanding questions, trying to stay calm, and trying not to get excited.

Stitch eyes Itchy and Doze with his usual unimpressed look, before finally saying, “If you wake up anybody else, I’m not treating either of you again.”

“We’ll be quiet as masturbating nun,” Itchy promises, crossing his heart. Stitch keeps eyeing them, but much to Doze's relief, he doesn't force Doze to leave. He just heads over to check on Matchsticks.

While Stitch deals with Matchsticks, Doze looks at Itchy, waiting for an explanation. But Itchy doesn't say anything, staring down at his sheets before glancing over at Doze again. He doesn't let go of Doze's hand, so that's got to mean something, but Doze isn't sure what. It's only after Stitch is out of earshot that Doze risks saying anything, quietly asking for clarification, "Boyfriend?"

"Well. Yeah," Itchy looks uncomfortable for a moment but he pushes through it, "I don't see anyone else in this room that I'm fucking on a regular basis."

Itchy's being as mouthy as usual, but Doze knows the difference between Itchy when he's being an asshole, and Itchy when he's trying really hard to be sincere. This is sincere Itchy, and Doze gives him a nervous smile. Itchy does his best to return it.

The boutique is quiet now that the operations are all over, and everyone else is passed out. The silence is oppressive and stifling, but for Doze, this is nothing out of the ordinary. He can't remember a time when it was easy to speak, so when the silence lengthens, it doesn't become more difficult, just the same level of difficult as always. Doze resolves to say something to Itchy, and for once, the words do come out of his mouth instead of getting tangled up in his tongue, "It's... okay that this means... something, right? That... we mean something?"

Itchy somehow looks less sick at the sound of those words, giving Doze a shaky, relieved smile, "Usually no. But I'm full of drugs so who gives a fuck," He squeezes Doze's hand, "I already called you my boyfriend. Might as well fucking seal the deal, maybe move into the same room or something. Aw geeze don't do that-"

Doze rubs at his eyes, fighting off another wave of tears, "I'm n-not, I just- I'm tired."

"Come here," Itchy tugs him over, and Doze carefully crawls onto the cot with Itchy. He has to be careful not to touch the fresh wound, but they eventually get him settled against Itchy's side, tucked in against his arm, "Stop your blubbering. Take my awkward emotions like a man."

Doze manages to laugh, even if it is quiet and watery, and curls tight against Itchy, "I'll do my best."

"I know you will," Itchy rubs his arm and yawns, voice going a little strange as he starts to drift off, "Now, you keep watch in case Stitch tries to take one of my kidneys to stick in Fin because I am not giving that asshole anything, especially not... that..."

"Itchy?" Doze asks quietly, and gets nothing but soft snoring in return. He lays his head against Itchy's chest, hearing the soft, steady thump of his heart. Doze waits a moment longer, just in case, and whispers, "I love you."

Itchy doesn't say anything, but Doze would swear his arm tightened around his shoulders. He closes his eyes and does his best to join Itchy, comforted by the steady lull of a heart.

 

\--

 

They’ve had fights before, oh sure, lots of fights. Itchy can’t go a day without cramming his foot into his mouth, either by accident or on purpose. It’s just the sort of guy Itchy is. But usually they’re quick fights, over before they can really begin, and Doze always forgives him.

Except this time, Doze has been in his room for hours, literally hours, and he’s not coming out. Regularly time passes like molasses to Itchy, but this is worse than that. At least molasses moves; this is like a receding glacier.

He’s on about his hundredth lap through the mansion when he ends up running straight into Crowbar’s crowbar and he hits the ground, “FUCK!”

“Take it outside, you’re wearing a hole in the carpet,” Crowbar tells him, offering Itchy a hand off the ground.

Itchy gets up on his own, dusting himself off even though there’s nothing on his clothes, “Thanks a lot asshole! Now I’m stuck like this for fucking an hour! What happens if we get attacked during then, huh?”

“Then we’ll get by without you,” Crowbar prods Itchy in the chest. It sucks not being able to simply outrun him in a heartbeat, “You going to apologize to Doze, or do I get to put up with both of you acting like this all night?”

“Fuck off, I’m not apologizing to him! He should be apologizing to me! He should be saying ‘I’m sorry’ to all of us!” Itchy snaps back, even though usually he’d come up with some smartass comment. That was the other thing he hated about this fight. Normally he could just be an asshole until people forgave him. But his nerves are still all shot and pacing hasn’t helped and running hasn’t either, and right now he can’t think of a single funny or crude thing worth saying, “And I don’t see why he’s mad at me? You were yelling at him too!”

“He’s not mad at me because yelling at you idiots is my job and he expects that,” Crowbar balances his crowbar on his shoulder, “What he wasn’t expecting was his boyfriend to flip out on him,” and fuck, Itchy will never get used to hearing someone use the word 'boyfriend', even though that's what he is now: Doze's boyfriend.

“Maybe if he didn’t almost fucking die because he’s too goddamn slow, I wouldn’t have to yell at him!” Itchy wants to raise his voice and make Doze listen in, but knowing Doze, he’s got his powers on and he can’t hear a single thing that anyone’s saying, just that high-pitched buzz of time going fast around his own personal slow-bubble.

“Itchy, come on. Go apologize to Doze. He’s just had a hell of a nasty scare,” Itchy turns away and Crowbar grabs onto his shoulder, turning him around, “Hey, smarten the fuck up! We all risk our lives everyday, and sometimes the calls are closer than others. Now’s not the time to be an asshole about it.”

“When is? When he finally kills himself?” Itchy yanks himself out of Crowbar’s grip, and only the affect of the crowbar keeps him from bolting, “Should I be an asshole then? When’s it acceptable for me to be freaking the fuck out over this stuff? Or are you the only one allowed to freak out over it!?”

“If Doze dies after I dress him down, I’ll feel bad, but I’ll move on,” Crowbar doesn’t poke or prod Itchy, doesn’t grab him by the shoulder. He just stares down Itchy and somehow that hurts even worse, “If Doze dies, and the last thing you said to him was that he was a stupid slow fuck, it’ll eat at you until the day you die.”

Itchy wants to insult Crowbar’s mother, or his sisters, or his stupid fucking hat or, or anything, but all that comes to his mind is the memory of Doze tied to that chair and Slick standing there with that razor in his hands, and the pit of his stomach just turns to ice. He fights to find the words, and finally what comes out of his mouth is, “I can’t lose him. I. Fuck, Crowbar, don’t make me say it.”

“Don’t say it to me,” He points towards Doze’s room, “Tell it to your boyfriend. Leave the lecturing to me. And calm him down. I don’t need him distorting time up there all night long.”

“You’re an asshole,” Itchy tells Crowbar, but there’s a half-friendly tone to it. Crowbar just shrugs and Itchy heads to Doze’s room. He’s passed by it a hundred times since they came home, occasionally yelling at him through the door. But this time he knocks, and rests his forehead against the wood, “Doze? … Doze, I’m sorry. I. Fuck. I’m sorry I yelled at you. Can I come in? Please?”

It feels like forever, like Itchy’s going to be stuck out here until the world ends, but then he hears time return to its normal flow, and the door opens a crack as Doze looks out at him. Doze just looks at Itchy, and then sighs a little, “Okay…”

Itchy’s inside the door in a heartbeat, shutting it behind him, and then scooping Doze up into his arms. He only ever does this when they’re alone, not because he’s afraid of the guys making fun of him, but because he worries they’ll make fun of Doze and Doze won’t be quick enough to fight back. Doze wraps his arms around Itchy’s neck, dangling a few inches off the ground, and Itchy just keeps his arms tight around Doze’s chest, “I’m sorry. But I just. You can’t do that okay? You’re not allowed to die on me.”

Doze’s arms tighten around Itchy’s neck, “You either…”

“Yeah, but. I can always run away from those assholes. You can’t,” Itchy sets Doze down again, his hands anxiously moving from Doze’s lapels to his cheeks, and back down to the top of Doze’s pants, and then up again, making nervous circles, “You have to be more careful. You scared the shit out of me.”

He expects Doze to say something, maybe a shitty attempt at a joke, or a promise that he won't do it again. But Doze doesn't say anything. He just looks up at Itchy with red-rimmed eyes and Itchy finally gets that he's not the only one scared here. Doze was strapped in that chair when Slick was coming at him. Another few seconds...

Itchy yanks Doze into a hug, holding him tight against his chest, "Damnit Doze. You are not breaking my heart. I am not going to lose you to one of those assholes."

Doze buries his head against Itchy's chest and they just stay like that for a while, Itchy keeping Doze safely in his arms. It's so hard to love him sometimes, not because he's unlovable, but because he's so fragile. Almost everyone else can get out of the way when danger comes along. But with Doze, the best he can do is turn on his powers and make it through the torture until they rescue him. Itchy's had to watch Stitch put him back together too many times. The thought of someday showing up late, or not being there when Doze needs him is something that eats at Itchy.

He's never liked anybody this much – no, fuck it, loved okay. He's never loved anybody the way he loves Doze. It's weird and terrifying. He's the guy who's a lippy fuck, who can't keep anybody in his life, who doesn't get invested. But here he is, fucking fretting about Doze. This is his life. The shit he's willing to do for Doze should net him some sort of award. But he supposes that must mean it's really love, because he wouldn't do this for fucking anyone else.

"Come on," Itchy says, walking Doze over to the bed. He doesn't have his powers, so he doesn't have to force himself to slow down, already moving at a slow speed as he backs Doze up to the bed, and just flops over onto it with Doze. That's a stupid enough reaction to get a slight smile out of Doze, mostly nerves, but fuck it, a smile is a smile, "You less panicked?"

"A little," Doze admits, staying curled up against Itchy. His hands play with the buttons on Itchy's shirt, and his fingers aren't shaking when they brush over them, "I worry about you too."

"Don't, I'll be fine," Itchy promises, leaning in and kissing Doze. It's just meant to be something quick and calming, but it changes as soon as it starts. He doesn't want to rush, at least, not right now. So he doesn't. He lets Doze set the pace just this once; slow, leisurely kisses, their mouths moving softly against one another. Itchy's hands rest on Doze's back, just holding onto him as they kiss. Even Doze's hands still, not unbuttoning Itchy's shirt, just resting against his chest.

He loses track of time while they kiss, focused so intently on Doze and his soft mouth, and the way they move in such perfect time together. Itchy's getting hard just kissing like this, not even touching or rubbing up against him or anything. Just fucking kissing. And he doesn't want to stop. He wants to keep doing this forever, making out on Doze's bed.

Doze finally pulls back, and they just look at one another for a bit. Itchy smiles at Doze, and gets a soft smile in return. It's times like this that Itchy lets down his guard and shuts off his motormouth, and for once, just lets himself be himself, "I love you."

"I love you too," Doze says, fingers curled against Itchy's chest, "I'm sorry. I really am."

"Me too," Itchy leans his forehead against Doze's. There's a part of him that's unable to take anything seriously, part of him that wants to make light of this, and laugh about it, tease Doze or call him names, or something, anything, to make this less serious, less real and less meaningful. Usually Itchy lets that side of himself out. But with Doze... Doze is the only person he can't stand the though of hurting by saying something thoughtless and stupid and accidentally cruel.

He holds it inside instead, and just pulls him and Doze further onto the bed. Itchy curls himself around Doze, just holding him tight against his chest. Normally they would spoon, and Itchy would just hold on from behind, but not today. Today he wants to have Doze facing him, and his mouth so easy to reach out and kiss if he wants to. And he does want to. He brings one hand up, touching Doze's face and letting his fingertips brush over the soft contours of Doze's face, "Itchy..."

"Yeah?" He leans up a little so he's half overtop of Doze, "What's up? You okay? Still all shaken up? You want me to do something?"

"I. I just," Doze's eyes lip down to the side, and his teeth worry at the corner of his mouth before looking back up, "I thought I might not- this is stupid, I'm- I'm stupid."

"You thought you might not what," Itchy kisses Doze's nose, "There, I did something like fucking ten times stupider. I'm going to have to hand in my license so they can scratch off the M and write in 'total pussy' instead. Now tell me what's up."

Doze smiles slightly, and then his hands press up against Itchy's chest, just smoothing over the fabric, "I... I kept thinking that. I was never going to see you again, not even once, and... it just... I just-"

"That's never going to happen. You're stuck with me forever. The universe is going to explode before you and me are ever apart," He kisses Doze on the nose again, and only when he sees Doze give him a smile, a real fucking smile, does he lean back in and start kissing Doze on the mouth.

It's slow and tender, and everything he knows Doze wants. Usually Itchy's impatient, always trying to get to the next step, trying to rush through everything in his life. Except for this. He's always slow with Doze, because the idea of missing anything by going too fast is something Itchy doesn't want to consider. They live a dangerous lifestyle, and the last thing he wants to do is to miss out on his, on the way Doze kisses him and how wonderful it is just to lay in the same bed together and hide from the world.

He has to stop to let Doze catch his breath, always so easily winded. Doze presses his head against Itchy's chest, fingers curling in his jacket, "Itchy..."

"I know. Love you too," Itchy presses his forehead against Doze's, and then pulls the blankets over them, and just snuggles into Doze. He's not tired at all, but he doesn't want to do anything but this, just lying in bed with Doze and holding onto him. Itchy rests a hand on Doze's chest, feeling the faint thrum of his heart beneath his thin shirt, "You know I'll do anything you want me to, right? I'd even stop being an asshole if you asked me to. Okay, maybe not totally stop, but. I'd try for you."

Doze smiles, and wraps his arms around Itchy's neck, and Itchy is all to aware that, of all the things he would miss if he lost Doze, this is what he would miss most. Not the physical affection, not the teasing, though he'd miss those too. What he would miss, what he would really truly miss, is just this: just holding Doze in bed. Just having Doze all to himself. This is what would keep him up at night if he lost Doze. He's caught up in his thoughts that it catches him a little off-guard when Doze finally says what he wants Itchy to do, "Will you stay?"

Itchy smiles at Doze, feeling his heart swell a little, and he tells his boyfriend as sincerely as he can, "Doze, you are stuck with me until the day we die. That is a motherfucking fact."

"Then that's all I ever want you to do," Doze presses his head against Itchy's chest and they just lay together in Doze's room, quietly enjoying each others company.


End file.
